


Thirst

by viatorix



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Play, F/M, Femdom, Size Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 09:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3203816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viatorix/pseuds/viatorix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Cullen stands next to her, he can't breathe right. She's tall, powerful; and he'd like nothing more than to be forced onto his knees before her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirst

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Kink Meme, edited a bit.

Cullen was not a small man. He wasn’t extraordinarily tall, to be sure, but he was always near the upper end of the scale from childhood to adulthood. Next to her though, he was _tiny._ When he stood beside the Inquisitor, he only barely reached her breasts (not that he was _looking_ or anything). She could easily pin him with her raw strength, hold him against a wall with one hand, _force_ him to do whatever she wished. The thought of the Qunari woman doing these things to him had left him with a thirst, perhaps a minor obsession. He was not proud to admit that after standing close to her at the war table, after subtly tracing the veins of her large hands with his eyes, he had later retreated to his quarters and stroked himself to completion; moaning into his arm and imagining his hand as hers.

There was just so _much_ of her, and so _little_ of him in comparison. What would it be like to be on top of her? To be under her, as she held him in place, to nip and suck at his neck? Perhaps he had not been as subtle as he thought because after a particularly long session of moving markers and discussing plans, Adaar confronted him.

“Commander,” the Inquisitor called, before he could turn the handle of the ancient door. “A moment, if you will.” She looked at him from over her shoulder, broad back arched and leaning over the great table. Cullen turned, suddenly nervous. She had caught him staring once or twice over the past hour – her long legs, and elegantly curved horns – but she had said nothing, just lightly shook her head and continued to listen to Leliana and Josephine titter over some son of a nobleman. He paced to the woman, keeping his voice as even as he could:

“Yes, Inquisitor?” She bade him closer with a jerk of her head, and he stopped as near as he dared to, which was still a good foot away.

“Do we have a problem, Commander? You did not speak out against my position when it was given to me, have I done something that was not to your satisfaction since?” She asked, her voice stern.

“What? No!” Cullen stuttered. How could she think such a thing? The Commander could think of no one else better suited to have the title of Inquisitor. What had he done to make her think he had a problem with her...? _Ah,_ he realised after a moment, feeling like a complete fool.

“Inquisitor, I don’t... It’s not—“ Cullen felt his face redden, and he rubbed at the back of his neck, thoroughly embarrassed. She was going to think him ridiculous, but he couldn’t force the words out. But, he thought as he looked up at her, perhaps he didn’t need to. A small spark of realisation dawned on Adaar’s face, and Cullen wanted to sprint from the room, consequences be damned.

“ _Oh_ , _”_ Adaar breathed. Several awkward moments passed before she spoke again, her face softening. “I didn’t think you were _inclined_ towards someone such as myself.” The game was up now, and Cullen sighed, resigning himself to whatever might come, though a faint glimmer of hope unwisely grew in his chest at her gentler tone.

“To be honest, I didn’t think I was,” he said. “But then, well... there’s you.” Cullen watched the Inquisitor’s lips twitch and twist, like she was trying to reign in a smirk.

“But then, there’s me.” Adaar pushed off the table, pulling herself up to her full height, and Cullen felt warmth begin to pool between his legs. Maker, this wasn’t the time.

“I’m sorry, this is completely unprofessional of me,” he said as he waved his hands, unable to meet her intent gaze. Cullen stepped away from her, eager to hastily remove himself from the room. “I will not trouble you with it again.”

He felt a hand grasp his pauldron as he tried to move away. Adaar was smiling at him now, full and wide.

“You didn’t even let me answer, Cullen,” she said, amused. Cullen’s heart quickened as she took the smallest of steps and reached out to cup his jaw.

“An-and what would that answer be?”

“This,” the Inquisitor said as she leaned down to kiss him, rough and passionate.

Cullen felt like he was on fire.

Her hand at his jaw moved to bury itself in his hair, the other sliding down to clutch at his waist. Eager and impossibly warm, he grasped the front of her shirt, and moaned deeply into the kiss; stretching himself up onto his tip-toes to reach as much of her mouth as he could. Adaar readily obliged him, opening her mouth to run her tongue along his bottom lip, giving small nips here and there. The Commander was putty in her hands.

When they broke apart, both heaving, the Inquisitor ran her fingers through his hair, trying to smooth the curls she had displaced in their frenzy. She looked... happy. Cullen didn’t think he’d seen that before, the woman usually kept to varying shades of grim. He liked it.

“Are you sure?” She asked after a pause. Cullen couldn’t answer the question quickly enough:

“Maker, **_yes_**.”

Adaar laughed.

The journey to the Inquisitor’s quarters was hurried. As soon as the door to her room clicked shut, Adaar was on him, slamming Cullen against the stonework and crowding him against her, the force of which left him breathless and wanting. His pants were uncomfortably tight, and he helped the Inquisitor with his clothing as she tried to rip them from his frame. What buckles that had to be intricately undone, she simply pulled until they relented; Cullen would have to get them repaired later, but for now he couldn’t care less.

“The bed,” she hissed, and Cullen complied, taken by her new-found aggression. Their stumble to the Inquisitor’s bed left the man in nought but his under things and Adaar far too overdressed. Pushing the Commander onto the large mattress, she pulled at the clasps of her shirt, quickly flicking the garment off to join its brethren on the rug. Next came her boots and breeches until she stood in a similar state to Cullen. His breath caught in his throat as he looked at her – all sinewy muscle, tight and taunt. She looked as if she had been chiselled from stone. He couldn’t help but reach out a curious hand to run his fingers over her stomach, fluttering down to the joint of her hip. The skin was smooth; a beautiful fine grey flushed with pink. Cullen traced it reverently, marvelling at the firmness. A light touch to his hair brought him back to reality. Adaar was staring at him, lustful yet entertained.

“Like what you see?”

 _Yes._ Cullen pulled at her waist, eager to get her closer. Her large thighs bracketed his, as he pressed light, feathery kisses to the hard muscle, dipping into the curves. The Qunari woman chuckled low, and warm, the hand caressing his hair moved to gently smooth over one of his eyebrows and stroke his cheek. Cullen took in the heady scent of her, different, but still lovely. It would be easy just to stop, rest his head against her, and breathe it in, but the need in his groin urged him on.

“May I?” He asked as he gently pulled on the fabric of her underwear, and Adaar nodded.

Turning, she stepped away from him and rounded on the bed; undoing the wrappings across her breasts whilst lying down and urging Cullen to climb on top of her.  He quickly followed, removing his own underwear as he went. Seeing her laying in such a way was like a kick to the gut. Adaar’s large horns elegantly curved against the sheets, twisting the cotton. He cupped one of her breasts in his hand (Maker, he couldn’t even hold all of it), and delighted in the way the Inquisitor hummed as he pressed a thumb over a dusky nipple. Even above her, he felt insignificant in comparison. He could lie on the woman fully, and never touch the mattress. She could no doubt take his weight. The thought of it ignited sparks and Cullen had to remain calm if he didn’t want this tryst to end prematurely.

Adaar lifted her hips at Cullen’s heed and let the Commander slide her underwear down her calves.

Releasing a sudden growl, Cullen’s heart stuttered when the Inquisitor flipped them over in one rapid movement. The man stared up at her as she smothered him against the bed; her expression fierce and demanding. The Commander couldn’t help the small tremble that course through him; a shudder that Adaar would of felt every bit of. When she ground her hips into his, agonisingly slow, he gasped, the sound reverberating throughout her chambers.

“Cullen, do you trust me?”

“O-of course,” he replied. Honestly, it was hard to think with her surrounding him so.

Adaar leaned close. When she nuzzled his at his neck, he bared his throat. When she moved to caress south, he arched into her touch. She had that look in her eye -- cautiously curious. It was the same look she had given when faced with the army marching on Haven. Cullen felt a tinge of nervousness at the comparison but he did not speak out. He meant what he said.

Adaar traced down, feather-light; cupping his cock, but not stopping there. Slowly, she dragged a finger towards his entrance and pressed at it carefully; never too hard.

“May I?” She asked, parroting the words he had uttered.

“I have never...” Cullen was suddenly unsure of himself. Not at their situation, but rather at his own inexperience in the act she was asking for. He had an inkling of what she wanted to do, Templars, like any soldiers, talk about such things (alright, so he may have left before the conversation got _that_ in depth); he wasn’t completely clueless. Regardless of that fact, it still didn’t help how Cullen felt. His face reddened. She must think of him as a lost duckling.

“That’s okay, we don’t have to.” The Inquisitor started to pull away, but was stopped by at Cullen’s behest.

“No,” he said, watching the way Adaar’s hair pooled and fell over her shoulders. “I want to... if you want to.” Pleased at his answer, she kissed him, a smile tightening her lips.

“I have something, hold on.”

The Qunari reached over to the bedside cabinet and fumbled with the small bottle of oil that sat by the lantern. The bottle was corked, but Adaar pulled the stopper out with her teeth easily enough, the cork coming free with a soft _pop_. Cullen tried to focus, to take deep and even breaths. Focus, his training said, hold on to the edge, but don’t go over. Excitement swelled in his gut. He... _wanted_ this.

Adaar spilled the oil over her fingers. Some of the liquid dripped onto Cullen’s spread thighs and the trepidation had him puffing a breathy moan. The Qunari woman licked her lips as she looked down at him and he could see some slick wetness slipping down the inside of her leg. The sight made his cock twitch hungrily.

“Relax for me,” she murmured, leaning forward. A large, slick hand moved between the crack of his ass and swirled around the entrance, dipping in lightly. The motion had Cullen rolling his hips down, eager to get her fingers inside of him.

“Steady,” Adaar warned, easing a finger inside his tight hole. She cupped his ass with the other hand, lifting his lower half like he weighed no more than a doll. The sensation was… odd, but not at all unpleasant. She twisted the digit, going slowly up to her knuckle before pulling out and pushing another in.

_Oh._

Cullen felt a pulse of electricity throughout his body when she brushed over a spot deep within him. He let out a yell, choking it off with a gasp and she grinned above him, crooking her fingers to hit that spot again, and again.

Cullen felt like the world had blurred at the edges. Every pulse set his body on alight. He couldn’t think, words failed in his mouth as he writhed under the giant woman, his hips stuttering and trying to wantonly follow her rhythm. He could barely feel her wrap his legs around her waist, pulling him forward and practically settling him on her lap. When she nipped at his neck, worrying the skin, Cullen grabbed and held onto her horns for dear life, his mounting orgasm making him tighten around her fingers. She did not stop, though, did not relent, and when he came it was like a dam had broken. He heard a voice keen, but it was distorted, like it had been filtered through water or thick fog. Cum spattered obscenely up his belly and he panted hard, rolling his hips as Adaar continued her ministrations through the aftershocks. The Commander felt like he was sinking, his bones loose in his joints – the muscles no longer solid enough to bind them.

He came back to himself in waves. As if each of his senses had broken and had to repair themselves individually. When they did, the Inquisitor was still looming above him, carding a hand soothingly through his hair. She did that a lot – she must like it. Adaar pulled her fingers out from him slowly, wiping them on the fine sheets before turning back to him. Cullen was exhausted, but as she unwrapped his legs from her waist, he pushed a hand towards her thighs.

“What about you?” His voice was ragged and raw, though he didn’t remember yelling that hard.

Adaar pursed her lips in a sultry smile, guiding his hand between her legs. His fingers quickly came away _drenched._

“Believe me, I enjoyed this as much as you did, Commander,” she crooned.

Sleep pressed down heavily upon his limbs, and Cullen let himself be arranged under the duvet. Adaar curled up behind him, tucking his smaller body into her own, and slinging an arm comfortably around his waist. This felt right. Cullen felt warm; protected within her grasp.

“Would you like to do this again sometime?” She whispered, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

 _Maker, yes,_ he could have sworn he whispered back as the haze descended, but Cullen couldn’t be sure.


End file.
